


We're In A New State

by geckoholic



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily Feels, Birthday Party, Family Dynamics, Gen, Jason-Centric, Not Jason's Birthday Though, kinda fluffy i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 22:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11389827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: Jason doesn't want anything to do with that stuck-up excuse for a family Bruce gathered around himself. He really doesn't. But it's Alfred's birthday and that makes for extraordinary circumstances.





	We're In A New State

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arysteia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysteia/gifts).



> I went with your prompt for "efforts (on anyone's part) to reintegrate Jason into the family", except this is kinda the other way around? Ish? Or both ways? Heeh. 
> 
> Beta-read by eternusmysterium and beta_lactamase. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Big White Elephant" by In-Flight Saftey.

There is exactly one occasion that will, every year and without fail, reunite all of Bruce's makeshift little family in one place, and that is Alfred's birthday. Christmas and Easter are always a few members short – Jason himself avoids them like the plague – and no one else celebrates their own day with any kind of regularity, which makes attendance flaky in return. Alfred, though. Ever since they were kids, that has been a must go. Bruce made sure of it, and neither of them ever seriously considered blowing him off. It's the one day when Alfred accepts extensive spoils from the whole lot with only a modicum of resistance, and, well yeah. They all had some form of decency bread into them, at least when it comes to the man who is basically their grandfather. 

The whole affair is usually quiet, because Alfred's patience for sitting around and being the one valeted for once still does have its limits: pancakes made by one of the kids for a late breakfast, then gift-giving, forbidding him from any housework for the day, and in the evening Bruce orders in for a family dinner. 

It sounds rather simple, in theory. 

 

***

 

Jason pads into the manor a little past 9 AM. It's been a rough couple of days and he didn't have time for a shower and a change of clothes, he only made it there by _borrowing_ a jet off some faraway country's wayward military, and Bruce very distinctly scrunches his nose when Jason marches past him still dirty and smelling of gun powder. He doesn't say a word, though; whatever disagreements they may presently have – and there's usually something – gets shelved for this one day. He looks up from his newspaper, frowns, and mumbles a greeting, which Jason cheerfully returns, throwing him a smirk for good measure. Without waiting for a reaction to that, he circles around into the kitchen, and – oh boy. 

As he frequently informs each and every one of them, there is nothing that Damian Wayne, grandson of the demon and self-proclaimed single legitimate heir to the Bat-mantle, cannot master if he puts his mind to it. Nothing. Except, apparently, cooking without making a complete mess of the kitchen and himself. 

He's covered in flour and murmuring under his breath in what Jason suspects is Arabic – it sounds vaguely familiar in a way that makes his stomach turn, because, hey, his memories of the League are not happy ones – and there's half a carton's worth of broken eggs on the floor. For a moment, Jason considers laughing at him, reminding him of his uppity attitude and walking back out, but then he remembers that none of this is for _Damian_. 

“Hey,” he says, and immediately puts his hands up in surrender when Damian whips around to glare at him. “Need assistance?” 

Damian snorts, like the mere suggestion Jason would have _anything_ to teach him is outrageous, but then he deflates. “Grayson showed me how this is to be done, but I... I was tired that day, and I kept nodding off, and.” He sniffles, and oh, this would be blackmail gold on any other day. “I don't know. I can't remember.” 

As it is, Jason swallows all the scathing remarks that want to come out, chucks off his jacket, and rolls up his sleeves. “Move aside, brat. I'm taking over, and this time you better _do_ pay attention.” 

The kid's expression returns to sinister and vaguely murderous, but he gives an exaggerated, solemn nod and does step away from the stove. He climbs onto a chair to peer over Jason's shoulder while he first sets upon reining in the mess, and then upon producing something that won't have half the family double over with food poisoning on this special day. 

 

*** 

 

Traditionally, not a whole lot goes south during the gift-giving. The butt of every joke pulled here would be Alfred and none of them would ever dream of sinking that low. Everyone hands over thoughtful, carefully wrapped presents, and for an average of fifteen to twenty minutes, the Manor is traversed by a calm air of happiness and contentment. Alfred will unpack his gifts with a shy smile, eyes glazing over a little bit when he smiles gratefully at every gift-giver in turn and nods his thanks at them, and they will all be looking fondly back. 

After that, Alfred retreats for a nap, and the rest of them scatter. The current Waynes – in blood and in name – get the advantage of living in the Manor and having some project or other to capture their attention. Jason does not, and so he wanders, boredom tugging dangerously on the edge of his mind. It's a big house, and he lived here long enough that memories cling to pretty much every corner of it. In the end, he opts for the part of the property that's the least personal, where wearing masks is not only allowed but often required, and which is at least filled with more personal accomplishments than painful reminders of how this used to be _his_ home too. He makes sure that Bruce is tucked away in the library, poring over... something with blueprints, and then darts down to the cave. 

He wanders up the stairs to the glass cases and stares at his old uniform for a bit, because that seems like as good a start to this little trip down memory lane as any, does a few flips in the training area for good measure, and it's only when he's sauntering towards to the computer for a little vigilante corporate espionage, that he notices the seat in front of the large screen is occupied. Jason freezes mid-step and prepares for a stealthy retreat. 

Tim swivels around in the chair and quirks an eyebrow. “I don't have to worry that you'd literally knife me in the back on Alfred's birthday, do I?” 

Well. Too late, then. Jason relaxes his posture and shrugs, nonchalant. “Don't piss your pants, Drake. I stopped caring about your continued existence a while ago.” 

The canted eyebrow rises a few centimeters higher and Jason expects a rejoinder – a lame one, considering his current verbal sparring partner – but instead Tim just slumps in his chair and yawns. “Then you might as well make yourself useful.”

Jason is tempted to flip him off and march straight back out of the cave, but, ah. For one, he's just about bored stiff, and for another thing upstairs there's much worse company to be had. Bruce, namely. Lesser evils and all, so he walks over to the computer and jerks his head at the collection of files Tim's got lined up in front of him. 

He leans on the backrest of his chair, not budging even though Tim immediately reaches back to swat at him. The glare that follows – he's collecting those today, one per bird, it seems – gets weathered with an obnoxious smirk. And maybe it's the harsh glow of the screen and the artificial light in here painting deeper shadows onto his face, but the kid looks very, very tired. It should not be possible to have such deep bags edged underneath one's eyes at the tender edge of sixteen. 

Jason sighs. He thinks about Alfred and how it's the old man's day and how they can give him all the gifts they want and the one thing he'd wish for more than anything will still be seeing his boys get along. And even though Alfred isn't here and neither of them is gonna tell him about this... ah, fuck it. 

“Go upstairs,” Jason commands, doing his best to inject the weight of age and experience into his voice. “Get some sleep, otherwise I'm worried you'll fall face-first into your entrée later.” 

Tim huffs – which doesn't come as a surprise, Jason didn't really expect this to work – but then he does stretch his arms out over his head on another yawn, elbowing Jason in the face in what surely is no accident, and nods. 

“Alfred wouldn't like that,” he says, and all of a sudden he actually sounds like an insecure, weary teenager. “Right?” 

“Right,” Jason confirms, and watches Tim shuffle out of the cave with a gait that looks more fitting for a _sixty_ year old before he plops down into the now unoccupied chair and starts squinting at the files Tim left behind. 

 

*** 

 

By the time Jason braves the upstairs again, it's getting dark and the catering people are already roaming the property. Alfred stands in a corner looking vaguely uncomfortable about the fuss that's being made about him, but they all know Bruce never really figured out how to do anything in moderation. A low-key birthday dinner, for him, means there will be three courses instead of five served to a group of roughly ten people instead of two-hundred. 

Jason snatches a seat next to the birthday boy himself, and opposite Dick. He hasn't seen much of his predecessor all day, and in hindsight that's unusual. They're both on par when it comes to hating celebrations and galas, but family events are Dick's thing and he's usually dancing around all of them in turn, to make sure the demon brat doesn't yap at the temporary staff and that Tim spends more time speaking to real human beings that monitoring some readouts on his smartwatch. 

And now that he's noticed Dick's absence during the day, something else makes itself known: Dick's moving all wrong. Sure, it's just spooning up soup and cutting steaks, but Dick's movements are hesitant and careful, at least to someone who spent years watching him on the job, trying to emulate his every step. Something's wrong, but Jason tells himself that's none of his business. Dick's an adult, he can take care of himself. Jason is a dessert and a few pleasantries away from being able to beat it and disappear out of the families private lives for another year, and what Dick's doing is none of his business. 

He's just about to rise from the table after said dessert and cut this party short, when he feels Alfred tab his ankle with tip of his shoe. Jason makes the capital mistake of looking over, and just as soon as he's gathered his attention Alfred nods his head towards Dick, who's also about to stand, and, if Jason isn't completely mistaken, does so hiding a wince. 

Jason screws his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. Fine. There are many atrocities Jason is capable of, he's proven that much, but saying no to Alfred on his birthday isn't one of them. They exchange a glance, Jason gives a miniscule nod and Alfred smiles his approval. 

He catches Dick on the way upstairs, holding him back with a hand on his shoulder. Dick flinches at the touch, then curses when he sees that Jason noticed. 

“It's nothing,” Dick says, voice terse. 

“Then surely you won't mind if I have a quick look,” says Jason, not having it. 

Dick frowns, but he relents, and the hiss of pain when he wrenches out of Jason's grip is unfiltered and makes Jason want to yelp along in sympathy on sheer instinct alone. 

They find themselves an unused room. Jason makes Dick sit down on a long, sturdy dining table, and Dick sends him another can-we-stop-pretending-you-care look before he sighs and strips of his shirt. 

His entire left side is marred by a long cut, from shoulder to hip. It's uneven and jagged, and looks like it was left by a claw. It's angry and red and it's still bleeding in places. 

“What the fu– “ Jason starts, and Dick waves him off. 

“It's really not as bad as it looks,” he says, sheepish, and that's hint enough that he doesn't even believe his own bullshit. 

Jason shoots him a glare. “Wait here. I'm getting a kit from the cave.” 

He half expects Dick to be gone when he returns, but not even the original is immune to the magic that keeps all of them on their best behavior for this day only. He's still sitting there shirtless in the cold, unheated room, waiting with his head between his shoulders, looking like a contrite child rather than the first Robin, once interim Batman, who taught all of them at least as much as their collective surrogate father. 

They don't talk while Jason cleans the wound with antiseptic wipes, nor while he stitches the more gaping edges together and tapes the whole thing up with gauze. The whole procedure takes maybe half an hour, and Dick silently grits his teeth through most of it. 

Once he's done, Jason pats Dick's upper arm and tries a smile. “All done.” 

“Thanks,” Dick says, smiling back. 

 

***

 

Jason doesn't linger much longer after that. He says his goodbyes to Alfred and then beats it out the service entrance, ducking out among the last of the catering staff. Despite the three courses, he's still kinda hungry – the uppity nonsense Bruce orders for these occasions isn't to his taste, he eats just enough of it not to be impolite – and so he heads to the nearest burger joint and orders himself a cheeseburger and some fries. 

He groans out loud when he beelines it, basically on autopilot, to the corner booth that was their last stop after many a long night back when Jason was still Robin. There's Bruce, nursing a milk shake, and scooting when he sees Jason approach like he actually expects that's an invitation Jason would ever consider taking. 

And he wouldn't, if today were any other day. But, as a quick glance at his watch tells Jason, it's still a while until midnight, it's still Alfred's birthday, and he figures, just this once, he'll let them both pretend that the past isn't lost forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] We're In A New State](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13105143) by [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




End file.
